Black Jack - Joseph Masbath's 21st Birthday
by Wendy Raimi
Summary: 21 is usually considered the best birthday. The drinking, the parties, the Constable staring down at you after you've had your first hang over. This will definitely be a birthday to remember.


Blackjack - Joseph Masbath's 21st Birthday

Wendy Raimi

Disclaimer: Okkay, Masbath belongs to Tim Burton and so does the whole Sleepy Hollow thing. *evil grin* But this is my idea. Cool huh?

Author's note: Well...This is mainly a story of peer pressure and what happens when you decide to follow it. I'm sure there's a moral some where in here, but I haven't found it yet. I got extremely bored and I finally saw Sleepy Hollow for the third time (I rented it from Blockbuster). This has just been bouncing in my head. I'll try not to be too explicit with the sex in this, but...it is Masbath...and he is pretty hot. ^_^

Dedicated to Nabiki - If it t'weren't for you me dear, I don't think I would have taken up writing again. *hugs* Thanks for being my lifeline.

And now for....

Blackjack - Joseph Masbath's 21st Birthday

Being past the legal age of 18 is nearly every child's dream. All right, so it's the legal age of the United States of America, still, being past that age, or being that age is nearly every teen's dream. That is when they can cast off the chains of confinement and say, "Hey Ma! I'm going! See ya later!" or, if they hate their parents, "Hey Dad! Up yours! I'm gone!" Yes, the sweet heavenly sounds of being 18 rings everywhere. But 18 is hardly anything. Sure, it allows you to go out and have all the sex you want with grown-ups and hang out with your friends till God knows when, but 21? Well, they don't call it blackjack for nothin'!

But, this is 1806 and on this sweet July 14th, Young Joseph Masbath did turn 21. He was in the process of moving out of the Crane's household, but not many people rented to an out-of-work boy who worked for a "I have resigned" Constable who, together, the two went out to solve the weird and the strange. And of course, his..."mother" practiced witchcraft, or so they say, so God only knows what could be wrong with him. Still, Joseph's belongings were packed and ready to go for whenever the fateful day would arrive for him to leave Katrina and Ichabod and make his way through the unknown and occasionally harsh reality of the world. 

July 14th in New York City was rather muggy and hot. It had been for the last couple of days, almost like the Amazonian rainforest. Only with out the lush greenery. For most of the hot day, Masbath had spent it in a small secluded patch of trees and grass near the Crane residence, reading a book on various theories about how the government was sure to fall within a few years. For some parts, the book was a bit scary, to admit that their strong government which had been upheld since the Revolution could all of a sudden fall, but other than that it was quite funny. 

During the afternoon, around one, Katrina had come out and asked Joseph if he wanted to do anything special for his birthday. Masbath had grinned, "Thank you Katrina, but, I'd rather just read my book and perhaps spend some time with a few of my friends later." 

Katrina frowned at the mention of Joseph's friends. "You mean Peter, Alex, and David?" She shook her head. "I'll warn you for the last time Joseph, they will be the end of you." 

Masbath grinned politely. "Don't worry Katrina. I know right from wrong." 

Katrina nodded with a faint smile at Joseph and left him to his book.

Katrina wouldn't know how right she was.

Around 7:30, when the sun was finally ready to yawn and slip under the covers of the horizon, Peter O'Hare, Alex Covington, and David Kander came walking down the sidewalk, a few mugs and bottles of ale under their arms and in their hands. They were laughing and talking, making a loud ruckus, and screaming out occasionally in drunken slurs. Joseph, who, yes, was still out reading his book, (hey! It was over 900 pages on conspiracy theories and the government and Joey's a rather slow reader. He likes to savour the ideas.) looked up and watched his friends head his way. He smiled and shook his head. _The poor boys are drunk!_ he thought as they stopped in front of him.

"Hey! Masbath--"

"No! It's _Young_ Masbath, remember Peter?"

"Ah, sorry David, yeah, _Young Masbath_, whatcha' doin' tonight?" asked Peter, his left eye squinting, nearly closed, while it tried to peer and clear the view of Joseph slowly standing.

"I was planning on heading inside. Mary wanted me to put her to bed tonight." The boys oohed.

"Mary? She your girlfriend?"

"You going to...coitus with her?" asked David. 

Amazingly Alex had been silent this whole time, and usually he was the loud one.

"No. She's the Crane's daughter and you should know that--"

"We should know, and we do, that you're still being treated as the servant after seven years of working for that...crazy constable, when you should be being treated as a son." said Peter, matter of factly, part of his drunken stupor washing away. Perhaps he was only tipsy.

"I respect the Crane's and they respect me. I have no right to barge into their lives and act as their son. They have Mary. I should be so lucky that Ichabod took me in. If it hadn't been for him I would have had to...well, probably live on charity from the rest of the town. You don't know how hard it's been for us. I am grateful for all they've given me." Masbath explained, a bit angry at his friends for nearly insulting his way of living. Peter and David shrugged.

"Come to the tavern with us. We wanna celebrate your blackjack." said David, an arm wrapped around Peter's neck now as he leaned on him.

"My what?" asked Joseph, confused.

"Your blackjack," said Peter. "The celebration of you turning 21. Blackjack is this card game. Come to the tavern and we'll teach it to you. Very easy game..._if_ you can add." 

Joseph looked towards his house and then at his friends, unsure. Katrina had said they would be the end of him someday, and one only knew how right she could be.

"You gonna let some woman act as your mother Joseph, or are you gonna come with us and act like a man?" asked David. 

Joseph looked to the ground.

"Let's go."

No one knew who the tavern owner was...well, at least at this tavern. All the tables had been cleared except for one. It was a small circular table that sat in the middle and it had a regular bar chair sitting on top of it. And on top of the chair was Joseph Masbath. Kneeling in front of him in an ottoman position was some unknown. On the unknown's back were mugs full of ale. Men were all around, chanting, cheering, singing, and trying to cop a feel from the waitresses.

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" chanted most, if not all of the men. Masbath leaned back his head and looked up at the ceiling. _I'm drunk!_ he thought...._No wait..._ Joseph picked up the biggest mug of ale and did chug it. He threw his head back, tipped the mug so the liquid would rush down his gullet, and swallowed as fast as possible. He set the mug down quickly on the man's back with a thud and the man fell flat onto his stomach. All the men gave a hearty laugh while Joseph himself giggled with delight. _Now! I am drunk._ he thought pleasantly. He stood and bowed. How much _had_ he drunk? And what time was it? Someone handed him another mug of beer and he looked into it. 

Standing wasn't very good. He felt woozy, and he swayed a bit too.

"Joseph Masbath! Get down from that table! You'll fall and break your neck. Then what will we tell the God forsaken Constable?" asked a waitress of Irish decent, who in Joseph's mind...what little he had left, thought that she said his name beautifully. Whether they were talking about resigned Constable Crane, or the one who might be coming to the tavern if they kept up the noise, that Masbath couldn't deduce. Suddenly, Joseph felt himself being picked up and placed onto the floor. He looked up and saw the red-headed face of Cyril Buckley looking down upon him.

"Shannon's right Joseph. You'll do your drinking down here, with the rest of us." said Cyril with a big grin. The rest of the men gave another cheer and someone pressed another mug of beer into Joseph's hands. Masbath looked down and drank the beer in his right hand, and soon followed it with the left. He grinned and swayed again. Peter came rushing over and threw an arm around Joseph's shoulders.

"Come Joseph, David and I want to have a talk with you." Joseph nodded and being led by Peter, went to the corner of the tavern and sat on one of the chairs.

"You are 21 now, is that right Joseph Masbath?" asked David.

"Yes sir." Joseph said as he looked at his empty hands.

"And I'm sure you've had plenty of fornication's."

"No sir. I am a virgin." Masbath said as he looked to see if his feet were still in tact. His black scruffed boots looked back at him and gasped. Joseph looked up to see David, Peter and Alex in shock.

"A Virgin? How?" asked Peter. 

Joseph shrugged. "Just never found myself a girl I guess." he replied.

"Well, as long as you aren't a...pretty boy." David said. 

Joseph laughed and didn't know why. The other men smiled.

"Well then, Young Mr. Masbath, we have just found the perfect present for you. There is a girl upstairs named Molly Christie. A delightful young lass who's just about your age. She'd like to be your first." David explained, whispering into Joseph's face. 

Masbath blinked and suddenly his mind cleared through the drunken haze. It wasn't completely clear, but they hadn't killed off _that_ many brain cells tonight. "I-I-I dunno David. Maybe I--"

"Nonsense Joseph! You _will_ go upstairs and give all the pleasure you got to that young girl, do you hear me?" David said, anger beginning to show in his voice. Suddenly the world became dizzy for poor Masbath and his head felt light. Peter placed a hand on Joseph's shoulder and the world resumed to normal...whatever that could have been at the present moment. Peter leaned down and whispered into Joseph's ear.

"Go on. T'won't hurt you. She's a good girl. You'll like her. Then you know what to expect for your weddin'." Peter explained softly. 

Masbath nodded. "Lead the way." he responded softly. 

For some odd reason, Alex was the one who led Masbath upstairs and to his fate. It was just the two men standing in front of the door that led to the unknown mysteries of the tavern.

"Be gentle, and it'll go all right." Alex said with a grin as he patted Joseph's shoulder and left the key in the boy's left hand. Masbath turned his head to watch Alex go down the hallway and down the stairs. He looked back at the door to the room, took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

The door slowly opened with a creak, reveling a girl of about 14 sitting on the bed in the Lotus position. She was Asian in decent, Masbath guessed Chinese as he gently tried to control his breathing. 

"Hello?" he asked softly as he took a step into the room. The girl's eyes opened immediately and she slowly turned her head to the side to look at her "client".

"Your day of birth is today. You are 21 summer's old. They have sent you to me. You are to make yourself a man tonight." she stated, as if speaking Masbath's past, present, and quick to be future. 

Masbath nodded a bit, terror dashing inside his veins. "It was my friends idea." was all Masbath could manage to choke out.

The girl grinned seductively and slinked off the bed and over to Joseph. "Hopefully you will wish it was yours as well." she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

The tavern was two stories tall. Below was where Joseph's brithday still rang on, even though the guest of honor was no where to be found...downstairs at least. Opening up the door to what most people thought was a broom closet, were a flight of stairs that led to the secret brothel that few knew about. What people saw on the outside of the tavern was a balcony that connected all the rooms together on the outside. Inside, only a hall connected the rooms together. It just happened that the doors that led to the balcony had rather large windows placed into them, so sunlight could shine in during the day, and perverted people like David, Cyril, and Molly could watch people "play" at night. At the current moment, that was what the three were doing; watching Pring and Joseph enact foreplay.

"Where's Peter and Alex?" Molly finally decided to ask, once the group was settled to watching the two.

"Said they had something to do in another room." Cyril replied, confusion beginning to play on his face. When Peter had said this, Cyril was sure there was another meaning behind it, but that was currently lost in Cyril's drunken stupor.

As for Joseph and Pring, they were still standing by the door, the door closed. Pring's arms were still around Masbath's neck, her lips on his collar bone. Masbath's hands on her shoulder's, as if he were trying to pull her away from him.

"Why doesn't he take her?" Cyril asked, the confusion more distinct now.

"He'll do it. He has to. You know how much we paid Pring for this." David said, his temper in the balance between fury and contentment.

Molly frowned and looked at David. "Joseph doesn't have to comply though. You didn't pay _him_." Molly stated, throwing her own ideas at the high and mighty David. 

"No, but he's drunk enough that he should." David responded back, knowing Molly's feelings, even if she didn't state them.

"Shh! Listen! I think they're saying somethin'." Cyril said, watching Joseph slowly pull Pring off of him.

Pring stood before Joseph, confused at why he didn't want her. She was pretty in her own opinion. Her hair was coal black, straight and cut short. It went down to be even with her chin. Her eyes were an equal coal black, and beautifully almond shaped. Her skin was pale and paper white, just like David said how most American's liked their...concubines. She was young, 14, and a far cry from being a virgin, but she hadn't been afflicted by the "curse" yet and was told she was perfect in that respect. That it made up for her un-purity. A piece of pink colored cloth wrapped around her bust and was held up by her more than ample cleavage. It just covered her breasts, leaving plenty to show. Her strong abdomen and most of her lower stomach. An inch below her belly button, a thin line began to hold up her short loin cloth. The loin cloth was pink as well. It was held by a gold piece of thread. The cloth covered her front, but showed her thighs and hips, then covered her from behind. Still, it looked like a flimsy piece of material. Most of the men who had been with Pring claimed that the loin cloth was for a 'Quick slip in, quick slip out'. 

"Why do you refuse me?" Pring asked, cocking her head to the right, her face showing curiosity mixed with a bit of confusion. 

Joseph looked down at the floor. "You aren't doing this for love. You are doing this for money. What good is it if you don't love the person?" he asked as he looked into Pring's eyes. 

Pring gave out a short laugh. "I love the money I get from it, and the pleasure." Pring said as she turned and headed for the bed. She sat on the edge and swung her feet back and forth. 

"But...I want my first time to be with someone I love. Not because someone was paid to..." Joseph said, trailing off, not finding the words to help finish the sentence. 

Pring smiled. "Think of this as one night where I can give you all the pleasure you've ever wanted to feel." and as she said this, she jumped off the bed. Her right hand clasped Joseph's shoulder, holding him still, while her left hand trailed down the cloth of his shirt, sensually rubbing his skin while she undid the buttons. "By the time tonight is over, you will thank me."

Network censors proceed to come in and edit the story. Once it is all taken care of they say, "Thank you for your wait. Now back to our story, which has all ready resumed progress."

The three outside the window had watched and were amazed. Cyril was the first to speak. "Pring never falls asleep after a job." But no one spoke after Cyril's comment, so he tried a different tactic at getting the group into a conversation.

"Maybe she was drunk as well." David slowly turned his head to look at Cyril, fury burning in his eyes, shooting daggers at the uneducated Cyril. 

"No. Pring just might not be used to virgins." David hissed out with venom. Cyril shivered at the tone. 

Molly, unaffected, said with a smile, "Maybe Joseph's omnipotent." _I'd like to get my hands on him._ she thought afterwards.

Cyril chuckled, "I'd bet he'd think, 'If little Joseph can't work, big Joseph can't live.'" Cyril nearly didn't have enough time to finish his comment as David gave a swift punch to Cyril's beer bloated stomach. 

"You idiot! She means Masbath's a God!" David explained, as he resumed peering through the window after his act of violence. 

"Joseph's a God?"

"No, not in your sense. It means....nevermind. Symbolism is lost on you." David said shaking his head while glancing at the floor.

"Joseph's a God?" Cyril muttered to himself, still confused. Yet another secret meaning, lost. 

Eventually the group broke up. Molly and Cyril went to their own "rendez-vous" while David went to his own room, concerned about the night's happenings.

The sun came up with a vengeance, angry that it had to be put to bed last night. To get it's revenge, it burned brightly over New York City, making it a hundred degrees in the shade. Making it so the sweat, heat, humidity and liquid of last night cling to the sleeping boy-man as if there was no tomorrow. Joseph Masbath slowly fluttered his eyelids open and wearily looked about the room about him. The sun giggled and played along the floor, the sounds of the day outside all ready out at work and play, long before our hero had waken. Masbath blinked at the brightness and lifted a hand to shade his eyes. He looked about the room again and realized this was not his comfy room above the Crane household. He slowly slipped out of the bed covers, stood, and looked around for yet a third time, trying to gather his bearings. A warm breeze blew into the room, revealing to manly Masbath his state in the Garden of Eden. He had eaten from the tree of wisdom and now it was time to discover the consequences.

He quickly scanned the room, locating his shirt and pants near the door and as he tried to run and make a grab for them, his stomach pulled him back and into a corner of the room where his stomach then proceeded to display the digestive pyrotechnics of all that was good and holy. The headache that had been secretly lingering within the depths of the boy's skull, now became pronounced and just as he thought he would stop releasing the contents of last night onto the floor, the digestive spill continued, wracking the poor man's body.

After Joseph was sure he had spit up his stomach, lungs and small intestine, he stood up and closed his eyes. His headache rampaged on, beating Joseph for letting so many brain cells die a horrible and needless death for his birthday. He groaned, wondering if he would live through the day, or if Sense and Reason would have pity on him and kill him now.

Joseph made his way to the wash basin and poured the contents of the water pitcher into the ceramic basin. He quickly dunked both hands into the large bowl and brought the water to his face, wiping off the beads of sweat and the heat of the night. He then let his right hand back down for another sweep of the water and gently sucked the water from his hand, trying to get rid of the taste of acid from his mouth. He picked up the towel, dried his face and tried walking back towards the door. Realizing that, even though his head would not let up, his stomach would for the time being, he picked up his shirt and threw it on, deciding he would button it when he got home. He pulled on his pants and boots. He ran a hand through his hair, replacing the tuffs of hair back into their original spiked position, the same way it had always been since he was 11. He then slipped out the door.

Joseph ran down the hall, he ran down the stairs, he ran through the tavern with all the men laughing and cheering at him. Of course, there were only a few men. The early drunkards who had come in this morning and hadn't been part of last night's celebration.

Out on the streets, Masbath looked around, but people ignored him as they went on their way on the hot July 15th afternoon. The boy began running down the street as fast as he could. He ran as memories coincided with each other. The memories of last night with those of the next thing that had haunted him, the days of the Hessian. He ran as if being chased by the Headless Horsemen, ran like he had wanted to from Lady Archer, ran from her twin sister when she had told him to go outside. Then his memory dove deeper into his head yet, running like he had the day his father had told him that his mother and sister were dead. He remembered where he had ran that day. Into the one place everyone had begged him not to wander into. The one place where it was said only outcasts and mad people went. The one place where he had been sure no one would follow. Into the Western Woods. That was why when three years later Ichabod Crane had come to the Hollow Masbath had been able to show him around the woods. The day Joseph's mother died was the day Joseph memorized every trail, every tree, and every article inside the Western Woods, and no matter how many times he went there to be alone, something new had always popped up. But this time he had no Western Woods to run to. He only had home and before his memory could scare him even further, Joseph Masbath had collapsed onto the front steps of the Crane household. 

When Masbath awoke, it was in his own room underneath the covers of his soft down comforter, his head on his fluffy pillow. The mattress nice and soft. Instead of the sun playing through the window though, it was the moon, bright and big. The Hunter's Moon, big, silver, with mixtures of white and that big bright white glow came in through his window and into his room making him hope that what he had experienced was just a dream, but as he turned his head, the eyes of Ichabod Crane peered into his soul and struck fear into the heart of boy-man. Alarmed, Joseph sat up in bed, and the headache rang lightly in his head, warning that if he pulled a stunt like that again, hell shall hath its fury with no mercy. 

"How was your night Young Mr. Masbath?" Ichabod asked softly, but in a strong and serious tone. 

Joseph felt a shiver run through his veins knowing no good could come of this. It was the name alone that Ichabod had used to frightened the poor boy. It was the tone Ichabod used to signal that Joseph was beyond being in trouble. It was the tone Ichabod has used at Jonathan Masbath's funeral.

"Fine Sir, and yours?" Masbath responded, trying to sound unfazed.

"For the most part, it was all right...Until Katrina began to worry about your whereabouts. And when you didn't show after one o'clock in the morning, Mary woke up screaming, sure you were dead. I did my best to calm them both and eventually they went back to bed. But as I stayed up, trying to divert my mind from whatever happened to my only apprentice, David Kander appeared at the door saying that my aforementioned apprentice had been seen at Cannon's tavern on the outskirts of town. Now, it is a widely known fact that a brothel resides atop the tavern and so I ask you Young Mr. Masbath, where were you last night?"

Joseph, knowing no way to escape this, and never had any liking to lying anyway, looked down at his bed sheets and replied, "Sir, David, Alex, and Peter came by last night and took me to the tavern. After filling me with spirits they led me to a room and I remember falling unconscious. When I awoke it was late morning and I fled. I do not remember the events during my unconsciousness."

There was a silence, and after a few moments, Ichabod spoke, "I see. I suppose you consider yourself a man now?"

"No Sir, I do not. I may be able to handle some responsibilities, but I did not act respectable last night. I am sorry for any grief I may have caused from last night."

Ichabod nodded and stood. He walked over to Masbath's bed and gripped the boy's shoulder.

"If you have learned from your lesson, then I am sure all is forgiven." Ichabod replied and then let go. Crane left and Masbath settled back into his bed, falling back into the easier days of childhood.

Being 21 is all right. If you can handle it. J 

Wendy Raimi (c) May 30, 2000 4:01pm


End file.
